成人快手

As an 8-year-old boy at the start of the war, son of an Italian (Veneto) father and English (Suffolk) mother I was aware of some tensions connected, occasional comments of other children, mentions of the threats to England and the threatening Mussolini. Even now I cannot say that these were oppressive concerns then, and anyway they would be moderated by the multi-cultural constituent of my immediate school and play mates - Northern Irish, Scottish, Polish, Japanese, in a city heavily populated by English emigres and by Germans, Italians and Japanese.

For me there was the excluded fruit, bananas, to cope with. Otherwise the 'rationing' was not deprivation. The great blessing I see now was the near absence of vehicles from the streets, which allowed to play winter ice hockey and summer football (soccer) in the middle of the streets instead of the pavement. We simply moved aside for the occasional car, and resumed gameplay.

Sending food parcels gave me my one painful episode that endures graphically. I can clearly remember the Department Store and the floral print dress I was obliged to model as a trial fitting for my London (England) cousin, Rita - same age and same proportions we guessed.

VJ DAY, 5 years on and with me a teenager, was the clearest memory: flags, bunting, store and street decorations, trucks overflowing with people celebrating and blowing horns and rattles, a general atmospher of carnival...... and then it was all over.

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